


Cold

by EllieStormfound



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Geralt takes care of him, Jaskier gets a cold and cannot perform, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, mention of valdo marx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieStormfound/pseuds/EllieStormfound
Summary: In which Jaskier gets a cold and cannot perform at a big event he had practised for for months. He is heartbroken but Geralt takes care of him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 54





	Cold

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this months ago and totally forgot about it. It was for a drabble game and was only posted to my tumblr so far.

“Jaskier, for once, don’t be a diva, come out already, everyone is waiting” Geralt called through the wooden door. 

When they arrived at Novigrad the day before Jaskier had been delighted to see the posters with a rather flattering image of himself advertising his grand performance for the anniversary of the city’s founding, a big annual festival. 

Over the last three months he had driven Geralt crazy with his vocal practices, monologues about the perfect set list and the process of composing a new balad for this occasion. And the bard had dragged Geralt not to one or two, but four different tailors in as many different cities to assemble the perfect outfit.

And now he was not coming out of his room. Which was odd because Jaskier always started his booked performances on time, proclaiming it to be rude to let the crowd wait.

Geralt knocked on the door and after another moment of silence said, „Jaskier, I’m coming in.“  
The room was dark, only one candle flickered on the nightstand and Geralt heard a small hoarse voice whisper, „leave me alone.“

„What…“ He took in the scene: Jaskier sat in bed still in his sleeping attire, shoulders hunched, brown hair ruffled and sticking up at odd angles, looking absolutely miserable.  
He shut the door, walked over and sat on the side of the bed. 

Jaskier turned his head away from his friend, hands covering his face. „Don’t look at me, I look horrible.“  
With a huff Geralt said, „I’ve seen you look worse. What happened?“  
„I woke up in the night, nose running and throat burning, and I am not sure if I have a fever.“  
He reached over to touch his friend’s forehead, finding it hotter than it should be and said with a frown, „you’ve got a cold. You cannot perform like that.“   
„I know.“ Jaskier sounded more heartbroken then after his breakup with the Countess de Stael. 

„Shit,“ Geralt said.   
„Go on, leave me alone and enjoy yourself. Wine, women and … something else with w…“, Jaskier replied, laying down again, turning his back to the witcher, achieving the impossible by looking even more miserable. 

„When did I ever enjoy something like this?“ Geralt reached over but pulled his hand back in the last moment before touching his friend's shoulder.  
„Then why come at all?“  
„Because these things are important to you,“ Geralt said.  
Jaskier turned around to look him in the eyes.

„Can you do me a favor and announce that my performance is canceled?“  
„Of course.“ Geralt waited for another moment, left the room and did as he was asked. Not ten minutes later he returned. 

“You will not like this,” Geralt said, “but Valdo Marx is substituting for you.”  
“Oh,” Jaskier sounded even more miserable and with a dramatic sigh said, “just stab me, would you?”

Geralt hated it when Jaskier got sick. Not that he was disturbed by the illness itself, but as a witcher he had never learned how to care for a sick human. A bit helpless he looked around the room, registering an empty cup on the nightstand, a pile of clothes discarded on the floor and his friend lying in bed.

“Tell me what I can do,” Geralt said and when no reply came, “I can make you some tea or something?” and after another uncharacteristically silence he said with a mix of mocking and desperation, “read you a story? Lie down in bed?”  
He was rewarded with a small huff.

“Don’t come too close, you will just catch the cold as well.”  
“I’m a witcher,” Geralt replied, “I cannot get the common cold.”  
“Ah, only us common folk get plagued by it,” Jaskier sighed.  
“As I learned yesterday, you are not common folk but a fucking viscount.”  
“Only the good-for-nothing third son.”

Geralt looked down at the sorry excuse of his friend, the normally so energetic and vibrant bard.   
“Why did you never tell me?”  
“What?” Jaskier said.  
“That you are a viscount?”  
After a moment of silence Jaskier said, “after your tirade about aristocrats not vampires being the real bloodsuckers a week after we met… I didn’t need another reason for you to send me away.”

It always felt like a punch in the gut when Jaskier reminded him about how dismissive he had been in the first months of their acquaintance. Even then Geralt had never meant to hurt Jaskier’s feelings, but tried to make him leave for his own safety. 

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Geralt said. And he was - with a steaming mug full of sage tea sweet with honey in one hand and a big leatherbound book with fairy tales in the other to make good on his suggestions. 

“Move over,” he grumbled to the bard, pressing the mug in his hand. He sat down on the bed next to him, offered his arm, so Jaskier could snuggle up and lean his head on Geralt’s shoulder and started to read, “once upon a time there was a knight…”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave a comment and let me know what you think!


End file.
